Chapter 733 - You can't gather yesterday's spilled water today.
Years of training had ingrained certain habits, so even while sleeping, I could sense disturbances—there was nothing to worry about.
Besides, being left alone didn't make me feel gloomy.
I simply didn't have time to feel lonely.
'Sword.'
On the contrary, the quiet and stillness made it the perfect time to organize my swordsmanship and other thoughts.
Hadn't I learned so much already?
Most recently, Imperial sword techniques and even the presence of Imperial Knights like Balmung—everything had served as a lesson.
'Imperial Knight.'
Enkrid had carefully scrutinized Balmung all this time.
He had observed the contours of his developed muscles with his eyes, listened to the accompanying sounds of breath and movement with his ears.
Naturally, he'd tried to use his other senses as well.
What kind of experience had he accumulated?
What sort of attacks would he employ in actual combat?
If Tempest Yohan was like a mighty greatsword, and Alexandra resembled a sharp thorn—
'Balmung is like a blend of sword, spear, and club.'
The image that came to mind was of a spear tip, an axe, a sword, and a spiked club protruding between shields.
In the shadowy stains between those shields, it was as if a single eye could barely be seen.
'He's skilled at hiding himself while thrusting out his blade.'
On the surface, it looked like he only carried a single club, but he surely had plenty of hidden weapons.
Was it cunning?
Rather than cunning, it was more accurate to say he lived up to his own introduction.
"He'll use any means necessary to win."
Should I go up against him with just tactical swordsmanship?
Just that one approach?
Limiting myself in a fight would give me no chance of victory.
After all, it's people who wield sword techniques.
Being confined to a single technique is foolishness.
When fighting, you shouldn't restrict yourself like that.
It was just like how I combined the Sword of Chance with Swift Flash to cut down that guy—Gelt, or whatever his name was.
To face someone like Balmung, I'd have to use everything at my disposal. Even then, predicting the outcome would be difficult.
Enkrid found a suitable cave to settle down in. He didn't light a fire; instead, he searched nearby for some pungent berries, crushed them, and rubbed them on his body.
This was a common trick among guides or mercenaries who traveled alone.
By doing so, you could erase your scent, making it easier to avoid monsters or demonic beasts with keen senses of smell.
If there were also traces of animal droppings nearby, that was even better.
If monsters or demonic beasts dominated an area, ordinary animals wouldn't roam around, so the presence of droppings suggested at least a relatively safe zone.
Because the Pen-Hanil Mountains were overflowing with monsters and demonic beasts, these territorial boundaries were actually clearer.
Otherwise, the beasts would have been wiped out and only monsters would be crawling everywhere—that's what a Demonic Domain really is.
They said the center of the Pen-Hanil Mountains was similar to a Demonic Domain, but that wasn't true for most of it.
Here, monsters, demonic beasts, and wild animals coexist.
So, the territorial boundaries are clear.
Of course, if you're unlucky, you could still end up as a monster's meal, but that wouldn't happen to Enkrid.
If anything, it would be the unlucky monsters or demonic beasts that would end up dead.
He wasn't in any hurry, so there was no reason to rush straight to the Border Guard by the shortest route.
Not that he was deliberately dragging his feet either—Enkrid simply followed his instincts.
He figured he still had some time, so he used his stay in the cave to think things through, review what he had learned, and practice.
He'd slice the air with the edge of his hand, twist and shift his body to study new stances.
Revisiting the various techniques Balmung had shown him was a learning process in itself.
After all, the more experience you gather, the stronger you get.
'Of course, I need to be careful not to pick up any bad habits.'
A knight, at this level, had exceptional control over their body, so there was hardly any risk of developing poor habits. Whenever he started to feel drowsy, he'd simply take short naps. He didn't really feel any fatigue building up. He did accumulate some travel fatigue, but it wasn't a problem.
'Even if I had to fight right now, I could handle it.'
That was the night he parted ways with Balmung.
It was a night with both moons shining bright in the sky, the starlight twinkling as if refusing to be outdone by the moon.
The sound of crying in the night, the chirping of insects, the rustling of leaves—Enkrid was just about to close his eyes for a longer sleep, using the familiar summer night noises as a lullaby.
Suddenly, he realized he was standing at the bow of a boat. It was the Ferryman's invitation.
Standing over the black river, the Ferryman held a violet lamp and looked straight at him.
Was it the same as always?
There were a few differences.
The Ferryman's face appeared clearer than before.
His skin was cracked, like a gray wasteland, and his face seemed a bit longer, stretched vertically compared to last time.
His pitch-black eyeballs revealed nothing within, and the same went for his mouth.
The tongue was purple, and the inside of his mouth looked like an abyss—utterly pitch-black.
If you dive into a deep pond the wrong way, you can lose your sense of up and down and drown.
That was how the Ferryman's mouth appeared.
It was a sight meant to tap into the primal fears of any human being.
He always had something otherworldly about him, but tonight it was even more pronounced.
The Ferryman spoke, pretending to be gentle and kind.
"Come aboard."
The kindness was just an act.
Enkrid's sharp instincts told him as much.
But he couldn't figure out the reason for this charade.
Hadn't the Ferryman always told him before to save Anne—to preserve this day that might be as rare as good fortune?
He had never felt any kindness from the Ferryman before, but tonight was unlike any other night.
'What's different?'
A long, black shadow stretched out behind the Ferryman. The shadow, usually unnoticeable, was now large and expansive. What if he called that shadow 'malice'? It would be the perfect fit.
Yes, tonight, the Ferryman was overflowing with malice.
As the corners of his mouth curled up, what showed wasn't gum, but pure black darkness.
Unlike usual, the black river below was perfectly still.
It was as if even the river was frightened by the malice the Ferryman revealed, tiptoeing quietly in response.
"You're being a bit too welcoming tonight."
"If I don't welcome you, then who would I welcome? In the darkness of this Abyss, there is only one thing that brings me joy."
He said this with a smiling face.
"And what is that one joyful thing?"
"Repeating this day of delight, ecstasy, pleasure, rapture, happiness, jubilation—again and again."
Enkrid didn't sense any vulgarity in the Ferryman's words.
Instead, he saw persistence.
Where did that persistence come from?
It was desire—a longing and a craving.
The Ferryman was not human, but his way of thinking wasn't all that different.
'If you really want to know someone, you have to know what they desire.'
He recalled what he'd learned from observing Hescal.
Tonight's Ferryman was full of malice. The reason that malice was visible—
'It's because he's revealing his true intentions.'
A straightforward and honest Ferryman.
What he once revealed only indirectly, he was now making plain.
Those words he'd tossed out brimmed with a kind of pure sincerity.
To endlessly repeat a day steeped in ecstasy.
That was what the Ferryman desired.
"What would have happened if I hadn't been able to protect Anne?"
The Ferryman's wicked smile curled upward in a spiraling motion.
Thin dust crumbled away, falling between the cracked gray wasteland.
"You would have spent each day in pain and suffering with that disease, repeating the same day over and over. That wouldn't have been so bad. Yes, hardly bad at all, but is that really the ending you were hoping for?"
The Ferryman pressed the question again. Enkrid simply stared at him in silence.
"That day will come, sooner or later With just a half-step in the wrong direction at the crossroads, an irreversible time will come."
The Ferryman was no prophet.
That much was already clear.
Even so, it felt as though everything he was saying would inevitably come to pass.
"Look."
The Ferryman showed him a day that hadn't happened, a today that hadn't been faced.
In it, Enkrid saw himself dying from illness.
"If you said you enjoyed any fight, you should've meant it."
Ragna's eyes darkened as he watched Enkrid die.
Beside him lay Anne's lifeless body.
The surroundings were blurry, but one thing was certain.
In that scene, Enkrid was trapped in an endless cycle, making pain his only companion as he repeated the same day.
With no one left to heal him, he could only relive eternal death.
The Ferryman's voice dug in, like fingers prying open an old wound.
"I helped you."
His words were like fingers turning into dozens of knives, stabbing straight into Enkrid's heart.
The Ferryman had intervened at every crucial moment.
He'd warned Enkrid before the monsters targeted Anne, and before every battle, he'd offered helpful hints.
Was this the truth?
That wasn't what mattered.
The Ferryman stirred up fears that any person would naturally have.
Make even the slightest mistake, and you'll be trapped in a dreadful today.
Time that has passed never returns.
You can't gather up spilled water from yesterday today.
Enkrid kept his gaze lowered, unable to respond.
To the Ferryman, that was expected.
Anyone who faces a fear they've deliberately ignored will freeze up. In that moment, he just had to slip in whatever he desired.
"Sit at the gambling table. I'll make sure you win."
"Hold a woman in your arms. Lose yourself in pleasures unknown to this world."
"Take the drug. You'll feel euphoria coursing through your body."
"You like the sword? Wield it. Want to cut something—anything? Do it. Do whatever you want. I'll help you with that."
With a crooked smile, the Ferryman etched his will into the void left by fear.
"Live out your days steeped in pleasure."
The Ferryman wished for it: a present filled with ecstasy, joy, delight, rapture, happiness, and elation. Pleasure that was instantly fulfilling. That primal human fear pressed down on every fiber of Enkrid's being.
'Protect Anne.'
Everything the Ferryman had said turned back on Enkrid, twisting into new fears.
He must have orchestrated all this for just one fleeting moment. Even rescuing Anne, even helping Enkrid—it was all part of his plan. One misstep, and everyone around Enkrid would die. That day could never be taken back.
Yes, he admitted it. It was fatal. Fear invaded every inch of his body. It would have been easy to collapse then and there.
Human willpower isn't limitless; it's bound to get worn down. That's how the Ferryman traps people with fear and insists there's only one way forward.
Enkrid, too, felt that fear After all, he was only human.
But fear and terror are worst the first time.
The more you experience them, the more bearable they become.
Fear is probably one of the most powerful emotions that drives humans. Especially when pleasure awaits on the other side as its reward.
And right now, Enkrid drew the line between what the Ferryman could and couldn't do.
'The Ferryman can predict and judge the future by observing the present, but he cannot know the past.'
If the Ferryman knew his past, he wouldn't have bothered using fear to shake his heart.
The man with the bizarre taste, holding that violet lamp, doesn't know who Enkrid was before today began to repeat.
Enkrid recalled his past. All those people he lost because he'd been powerless. Those he failed to protect with his own two hands. The times, twisted by a single wrong choice. Experiences he'd already had—over and over again.
"If I stop here, then nothing I've done up to now has any meaning."
That's why he spoke.
The Ferryman's expression contorted.
That was unmistakably not a smile anymore, but rather a face full of irritation.
The lamp began to quiver, and soon the river started to ripple as well.
"...You'll regret it."
"I already do, every single day."
A pause followed.
The Ferryman's face didn't change, but somehow it looked even more twisted in a grimace.
Then Enkrid felt his body suddenly go weightless.
It seemed like a part of a dream, but he also heard a few strange voices.
"Well done."
"What a bastard."
"That's the way."
"This is why you always bet gold coins on the highest odds."
"Look at this bastard's face."
Mixed in were the sounds of people snickering and laughing. All in all, it was a chaotic mess.
It's awfully noisy.
Enkrid thought as he woke up.
Pulling himself away from the voices—unsure if they were hallucinations or fragments of a dream—he opened his eyes and looked around.
Night was still pitch black.
There were no sounds of monsters or wild beasts.
It hadn't been any threat or sense of danger that woke him.
Enkrid wiped at his eyes.
'Thank goodness.'
It seemed like I'd shed a few tears in my sleep.
If this had happened back at the baracks, Rem and the others would have immediately started calling me the "crybaby squad leader."
Then Krais would have gone around spreading the nickname everywhere.
Seriously, those guys are nuts.
Enkrid closed his eyes for a bit longer, then got up around sunrise. He gauged his direction by looking toward where the sun had risen and started walking. Instead of heading straight for the Border Guard, he chose a more comfortable, roundabout route.
That's when he stumbled upon something unexpected.
There were signs that people had passed through—a trail of pressed grass between the bushes and a faint lingering scent gave it away.
This was the region around the mountain range that split the Empire and the Continent—hardly a place fit for people to live.
So what could this mean?
Traces left by hunters? But this was way too deep into the wilderness for that. Hunters come out here to hunt, not to get themselves killed—they wouldn't wander this far out.
Anyone who isn't curious here can't really call themselves human.
Enkrid followed the traces—signs so subtle that only someone like him, with a bit of luck and coincidence, could have found them. Eventually, they led him to a village.
The moment he saw it, he could pretty much figure out what kind of village it was.
'The Village of Hermits.'
On the Continent, the structure of society doesn't allow for small villages. Because the land is teeming with monsters and beasts, humans have to band together and live in cities. Even so, there are always a few who can't adapt to city life and end up wandering from place to place. Maybe they can't endure the lord's oppression, or perhaps they've been falsely accused, or even committed real crimes. So where do people like that go to live? They go into hiding, doing whatever it takes to survive. They have to stay out of sight from monsters and beasts, so they live in all sorts of ways just to get by. The traces before me were left by a village like that. A quick survey revealed that they had cleverly used the natural terrain and dug traps to keep monsters and magical beasts at bay.
'And that's not all. They probably took advantage of the borders between monster territories, too.'
This was a familiar sight to Enkrid. After all, he had grown up in a village just like this.
***
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